Accompanying the Aged - I Am Waiting

6th International Conference of the Ecumenical Patriarchate for Pastoral Health Care

6^TH Session
Accompanying the Aged

I Am Waiting*

A elderly lady appears on stage and looks towards the audience and says:

Well, you see, back then everyone was leaving their villages and heading either to the big city or abroad. That’s what my husband, Makis, saw, and he said to me:
“My dear, with two little children, how will we manage? What will we do? How will we raise them? Why don’t we go to the city too, to try our luck? We’ll do better there.”
And I told him, “Whatever you think is best, my husband.”
So, we packed up and left our little house and went to the big city. With the little money we had, we rented a small and simple home.

Down there, each of us found a little job to get by. One of us worked while the other looked after the kids. Makis worked at a small manufacturing business, and I worked at a restaurant, washing dishes and cleaning the place.
My husband made progress! He learned the trade well, and little by little, his boss made him a supervisor.
“Ha!” he used to say to me. “My lady, instead of herding goats in the village, now I’m a boss at work, and everyone respects me.” He was so proud of that!
But even my own boss loved me and looked after me like “the apple of his eye”. He used to say, “No one has ever done this kind of work for me.”
Sometimes, he even took me to his home — a huge villa — to wash dishes during parties and gatherings. He also liked that I made pitta pies like the ones I made in the village.

That’s how the years went by. Makis at the factory and me at the restaurant, washing dishes. So many dishes…

Over time, the children grew up and got an education. Wonderful children! Each one a gem. They served their country, and afterwards, they found good jobs as professionals.
One became a teacher. The other an accountant.
“You see, my lady,” Makis used to say, “if we had stayed in the village, our children wouldn’t have made it.”

With hard work, we managed to save enough money to buy the little house we had been renting. It was small, but it was ours. We lived through many things there — joys and worries. What can I tell you!

We worked and waited eagerly to receive our pensions. A whole life going from house to work and back again. We didn’t do anything else. Makis was a supervisor, and I was in the kitchen with the dishes.
A little food, some sleep — we were so tired we barely spoke to each other! We just hoped the day would come when we could retire and finally rest.

After a few years, we were left alone. Our son, the teacher, got married and moved far away to another city where his wife lived. She doesn’t talk to me much, but they love each other.
The other one — well, life got hard, and he went to Germany. He found a job at a company.
I still can’t accept that. He left his profession, but at least he’s working and earning money.
He’s with a German woman now. They don’t want to get married. She doesn’t like Greece, and they don’t visit often.
What can I say? That’s what he wants.
With all our work, we didn’t get to enjoy our children. Time passed quickly.
They left, and we were left alone. May God keep them safe.

Ah! Just when we thought we’d finally find peace, tragedy struck.
Makis got sick and died within a week!
His heart couldn’t take all the years of work and stress!
The poor man didn’t even live to collect his pension!
Thankfully, his boss came to the funeral and said a few kind words.
May God rest his soul. (She crosses herself)
Such sorrow! I was left alone. Completely alone!

One day, my time came too — to stop working.
But then a deep sadness took hold of me. I felt even lonelier.
I had no one. I sang laments morning and night.
“Today black is the sky, today black is the day!”
The whole week felt like Good Friday. I hardly left the house, only for a bit of shopping.
On Sundays, I’d put on my best clothes and the jewelry Makis had bought me when we got married, and I’d go to church.
We still have our dignity! I had to dress well.
There, I’d meet other women like me — alone — and together we’d praise God for what He had given us.
Blessed be His name. Thy will be done. (She crosses herself)

A few years passed, and my health started failing.
Some arthritis. Some minor heart issues.
What can you expect after standing so much washing dishes?
At night, my whole body hurt. I couldn’t sleep.
I started forgetting things I needed to do.
I’d go from room to room without knowing why.
Strange — but I remembered everything from the past! What madness!
I would day, “loneliness must be driving me crazy”.
Who could I talk to? Only Christ, the Virgin Mary, and the Saints.
You know what I do now?
At noon, I make coffee for five people and pour it in nice cups in the living room…and one day I drink coffee with Christ, the Virgin, and some saints. The next day, with other saints — until Sunday comes.
That’s how I share my sorrow and find comfort…
The children are far away! They have work and don’t call that often.
And talking to their wives? One barely speaks. The other doesn’t speak our language. How could I ever learn German?

So the years passed, and time slipped away.

One day, my children called and said they were coming to visit!
What joy! I couldn’t believe it!
But when they came and saw how much I had declined, they said:
“Mom, we’re going to take you somewhere nice, with a beautiful garden full of flowers, so we’ll know someone is looking after you. You’ll have company there.”
“I’m not going anywhere!” I told them.
“Do you know how hard your father and I worked to buy this little house?”
But they wouldn’t change their minds.
I realized they wanted to rent out the house — or maybe even sell it.
After many arguments, I told them,
“I’m not going to a old age home! That’s final!
I’ll go back to my village to live. I still know a few people there.
My sister lives in the next village. They still hold festivals there. There’s joy.
That’s where I’ll spend my remaining days in peace.
What do I do here in the city anyway? I’m all alone.”
So I packed up, and they took me to the village.

I came here and, with what little I had left, and fixed up my little house.
And I waited for the joys and the festivals to come.
And I waited, and I wait — and I wait — and I wait...
Time has passed.
My sister doesn’t come often; she’s busy.
Everyone is busy.
Why does everyone have to be in such a rush?

Only a few old women are left here.
Many have died.
There aren’t even church services anymore — maybe once in a while.
No bells ring.
Not even the priest comes to visit me. Poor man.

Do you know how I spend my day?
Morning and afternoon, I sit and look out over the fields and the sea from my porch.
I look to see — maybe joy will come.
Maybe the festivals will return.
Maybe my children will come — so I can see my grandchildren, so my house can be filled with voices.

As I sit and stare, I feel my mind slipping.
I see strange things, monsters, bizarre visions… and signs from God.
I’m scared.
And if I completely lose my mind or get sick, who will care for me?
Even if I go to the hospital, I’ll be alone.
I say, “God will provide.” (She crosses herself)
But I’m still afraid.
And who listens to me?
Sometimes I even wonder if God hears me.
“Makis, where are you?”

That’s how I spend my time… just sitting and waiting… at the doorstep…
Waiting for that dark reaper to come and take my soul…
So I can go and find my husband, poor me…
Amen, my dear God… (She crosses herself) … Amen.

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*Based on George Maniotis’s theatrical monologue “To Kolpo” (The Trick)”, which was performed on stage in 1983 as part of the play “Gro Plan.” (George Maniotis, Collected Plays, Volume I, “Gro Plan (33+31 Monologues)”, Aigokeros/Dramaturgy Editions, 2006, pp. 29–32. The present text, “Waiting”, contains real-life events not included Mr. Maniotis’s original theatrical monologue. Also,  the characters and situations referred to have been also been altered.

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